


nothing i wouldn't joyously take

by segmentcalled



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Begging, Collars, Communication, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Hair-pulling, Kink Negotiation, Leashes, M/M, Masturbation, Not Beta Read, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Riding, Sex Toys, Top!Brian, Verbal Bondage, not petplay despite what the tags might imply
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 22:03:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19093987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/segmentcalled/pseuds/segmentcalled
Summary: It’s so simple to fall into a routine. It feels natural, even. Whoever’s place they wake up at, they go through their morning routines in tandem. It is, in point of fact, mostly a time-saver to shower together, unless they get distracted and Laura pounds on the door and yells at them tohurry the fuck up, lovebirds, I have to pee,at which point they scramble.





	nothing i wouldn't joyously take

**Author's Note:**

> wrow this sure is a thing i wrote in the middle of the night last night because i had like three ideas and decided to mash them all together and it sure did turn into this. look at all those tags, jfc
> 
> subtitled: unstoppable force (the intention to write something purely indulgent and sexy) vs. immovable object (my inability to write a sex scene without thoroughly hashing out consent and thus doubling the wordcount)
> 
> usual disclaimers apply such as "[insert standard rpf disclaimer here]" and "i dont know shit about fuck" and "no one else read this before i posted it"

It’s so simple to fall into a routine. It feels natural, even. Whoever’s place they wake up at, they go through their morning routines in tandem. It is, in point of fact, mostly a time-saver to shower together, unless they get distracted and Laura pounds on the door and yells at them to _hurry the fuck up, lovebirds, I have to pee,_ at which point they scramble.

They are interrupted thusly one morning, when Brian has Pat crowded up against the corner of the shower with his hand on his dick and his mouth on his neck and they both startle so hard at the sudden banging at the door that it’s a goddamn miracle neither of them fall the fuck over.

“You’ve been in there like an hour, at least let me get ready for work, assholes!” Laura adds, as punctuation.

“Okay, okay, one sec,” Brian calls back, in an impressively even tone. He drops his voice, so as not to be heard by anyone outside the door. “Sorry, babe, let’s just relocate to my room?”

“Okay,” Pat says, his voice rough.

“Here, rinse your hair, sorry, I distracted you before you were done, you’ve still got some bubbles -- there you go, good, let’s get us some towels, alright?”

Pat lets himself be nudged out of the shower and gets a towel wrapped around his waist. Not that it preserves much modesty, in his current situation.

“Laura, if you’re still out there, get out the way,” Brian yells; there is the sound of retreating footsteps. Brian opens the door and shoos Pat out, following him in hot pursuit, around the corner back to Brian’s room.

“Alright, Gill, on the bed,” Brian grits out, as soon as he’s pulled the door shut behind him, and Pat scrambles to obey. “Christ, you’re all wet, don’t lay down, dry your goddamn top off,” Brian says, bossy but fond. Pat does this too, as quickly as possible, kneeling there and dragging the towel over his skin, his hair, running his fingers through his hair to catch any tangles.

“Good. Give me the towel, stay there, just like that. Thank you, Pat, good job.” Brian presses a quick kiss to Pat’s temple. “How’re you doing?”

“Good,” Pat says, emphatically.

“You like it when I tell you what to do?”

“Yeah. _Yes._ ” A breath of a pause, and he takes a chance: “Sir.”

Brian’s smile turns wicked. “Oh, baby boy, you are _so_ fucking good to me. Tell me what you want out of this.”

Pat shifts; he can’t find where to put his hands, so he clasps them behind his back. Brian watches him, his eyes hungry. He clears his throat, in the hopes he’ll sound less ragged, but it is less effective than he hoped, when he speaks. “Like I said before, you -- you could do just about anything you wanted to me and I would -- take it _gratefully._ ”

“Fuck, Patrick,” Brian says, his voice soft, nearly reverent. He traces fingertips down Pat’s chest, gives a cursory pinch to his nipple in the process, which makes Pat gasp. “You gotta be more specific, baby, I can boss you around but you gotta tell me where you’re willing to go. I’ve got some peripherals, if you’re inclined to check out my bag of tricks. And I don’t like to be mean. I’ll do stern, sure, but I’m here for the honey, not the vinegar.”

“Same,” Pat says. “Stern’s as hard as I can handle. I like to know I’m doing alright.”

“Noted,” Brian says, and smiles. He sits down on the edge of the bed, perpendicular to Pat. “You’re doing great already, just so you know. Do you want to relax a minute for us to talk, or are you more comfortable like that?”

“This is fine,” Pat says. He likes it. Likes how Brian looks at him, like this. Keeps him in a place where he’s just open enough to speak candidly about what he wants. “What’ve you got, by way of -- what did you say -- peripherals?”

Brian laughs. “I’ve got cuffs and a nice set of ropes I’ve been practicing with, a couple plugs, nothing too exciting. I can do some real good wrist ties, legs, uh, some harness stuff -- y’know, the basics. If you’re interested in that. If not, or not right now, that’s totally fine. Um. I’ve also, uh, got a leash and collar, but that’s -- you know, that’s not something that we’ve gotta break into by any means. I mean, none of it is, obviously.” He clears his throat. He’s blushing bright red, and Pat can’t help but smile.

Pat considers. He’s no longer on the edge of coming, the conversation bringing him out of the immediate need, so he bets it would be fun to get worked back up again, let Brian really tease him and make him beg. He imagines what it would be like to be at Brian’s mercy, a plug in his ass and his hands clutching the headboard and Brian straddling his thighs and grinning down at him, and a shock of arousal floods through him. For a half-second he imagines this scene with the collar, with the leash clenched tight in Brian’s hand, and it’s so overwhelming to even think about -- he never really thought to want it, before now, but _fuck_.

Somehow, he manages to convey this to Brian, who looks completely fucking thrilled. They hash out boundaries a little more, building on what they already have told each other -- red yellow green ( _promise me you’re not just saying this to please me I’ll be happy whatever we do, okay good_ ), what should they really not say ( _I love the idea of the collar just for the sensation, having something around my neck, but if you treat me like a dog in any way shape or form I am fucking_ out), what should they really absolutely say ( _I won’t say any title is good but there’s a fair few I’m a fan of_ ), is there anywhere they can’t touch ( _Pat I am so ticklish dear god_ ) -- and then they’re back in it.

It’s like flicking a light switch, with Brian; one second he’s giggling at Pat and pressing little kisses to his cheeks, and the next he’s gotten up and away and he’s saying _kneel, Patrick, you’ve moved from your position._ Pat could get whiplash, from how fast he moves, his response automatic at the commanding undercurrent of Brian’s voice.

“Good. Very good. Lift your chin, if you please, darling, I need your neck.”

He cannot _believe_ he is doing this, as Brian carefully pushes Pat’s hair out of the way and clips a simple black leather collar around his neck. It’s heavier than Pat thought it would be. The weight grounds him. Brian hums softly as he adjusts it, then slides his finger beneath it and tugs gently. Pat draws a breath and looks up at him.

“Oh, you pretty thing, look at you. How’s that feel?”

“Good. Real good.”

“I’m so glad. Here’s what I’m gonna do, okay? I’m gonna clip this on, here --” A soft click, a gentle tug. “-- and then I’m gonna prep you, alright?”

“What if you tied me to the headboard. I mean, with the leash.”

Brian blinks. “Fuck, baby, you’re full of ideas. I like that, conceptually, it paints a pretty picture, but I think I’m gonna say no for the moment. I think you’re going to be moving quite a bit, and we need to be careful with your neck. I’ll see if we can find a way to do something like that safely a different time, is that okay?”

“Yeah. ‘Course. This is great.”

“Good. Can you turn around for me, gorgeous? I’m gonna need you horizontal, I think, but back or front is up to you.”

Pat stretches out as Brian gets himself organized, and once Pat is still, Brian gets up onto the bed and kneels over Pat’s legs.

“Oh, shit,” Pat says, and Brian skitters off of him as suddenly as if he’d been burned. “No, no, it’s okay, I just -- I’m allergic to latex, I just remembered you might not know that.”

“Oh! Oh, okay, that’s fine, okay, whew. I was, uh, just gonna use my hand, if that’s alright? And the plug’s just silicone, that should be fine, I think?”

“Yeah. I personally -- gosh, this makes me sound like such a prude and everyone laughs at me for it, but I’m not gonna apologize for it, I’m allowed to do things the way I want -- I usually use gloves, or a condom in a pinch. For me it’s ‘cause I get kind of squicked if I think about it too hard -- I know, I know, it’s nothing I should even worry about, I’ve read all the things, I know everything’s clean and whatever. But I mean, _technically speaking_ they tell you to wear gloves and stuff. Technically. Y’know. Those ‘they’ people. The sex scientists, I guess. I’m rambling. I don’t know why I’m defending myself so hard to you. I guess I just usually have to do that. Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. No one should give you shit for wanting to have safe sex, Pat,” Brian says softly. “Let me look around, see what I’ve got.” He hops off the bed again, to go rummage around, but keeps looking back at Pat, to indicate that he’s listening.

“I mean -- really it’s just when I’m on the giving end, I just don’t like to deal with it, easier to throw it out than get all weird about washing my hands eighty times.”

“Are you saying that because you’re worried I don’t have anything you’re not allergic to, or do you actually mean it?”

“I do mean it. As long as I don’t have to touch anything, and you go wash your hands before you do anything else, when you’re done, and if you handle the plug after, then I’m fine. And -- like -- I mean, if you don’t want to do all that yourself, I can try and help --”

“Pat, come on,” Brian says, so gently. “I’m never going to ask you to do something you don’t want to do. It’s totally okay that you feel that way, and I’ll do whatever you need me to do to help you feel comfortable. I don’t mind cleaning up at all; this is something that has never bothered me, so I’m more than willing to take on that responsibility. Here, double-check this, will you?”

He tosses a small box at Pat, who catches it with only a little fumbling. Pat squints at the fine print, and approves.

“We can pick up some gloves the next time one of us is at the store. Hell, there’s a drugstore a block away, I can go there later. And get more of those, too.”

“Poor cashier who has to deal with you,” Pat says, and Brian laughs.

“Please. They don’t give a shit. If they even notice what they’re scanning, they’ll just know I’m getting some.” Brian winks and wiggles his hips, and Pat can’t help but laugh. Brian gets back up onto the bed with him, and kisses Pat’s forehead. He takes the box from him and opens it, retrieves a single condom, then sets the rest on the nightstand. He winks at Pat as he opens the packet, and Pat smiles.

“Do you want to -- do you want to get back into the scene? It’s okay if you’d rather not have those dynamics right now --”

“I’d love to get back into it,” Pat says softly. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Absolutely.” Brian sits back and clears his throat, tosses his hair back out of his face, and then he’s back in it again, Pat can see it in his eyes. “Alright, settle back down for me, Pat Gill.”

Pat lays back and lets Brian prod at him until he’s where he wants him. And then Brian sets his things aside and dives in to kiss Pat, pressing himself against him, chest to chest. He is enthusiastic, at first, and then Pat gives a soft appreciative sound when Brian bites his lip, and then he swerves hard into something more desperate, aggressive. Brian threads his hands into Pat’s hair and pulls, not gently, and Pat groans and tightens his hold on Brian.

“You like that?” Brian says against Pat’s mouth. Pat just nods, his lips still parted, catching against Brian’s, and Brian grabs his face and holds him still, licks into his mouth again. Brian’s hand drops to Pat’s shoulder, and then he slides an index finger under the collar, as if to remind Pat it’s there. His hand flits away nearly as soon as it arrives, though, and keeps going to Pat’s chest. He pinches his nipple -- Pat whimpers -- and he feels Brian’s lips quirk towards a smile for half a second before he sits back.

Pat reaches for him, but Brian just smiles and lightly catches his wrists, sets his hands down at his sides. He reaches for what he’d set down, before, the condom and the little bottle of lube, and Pat watches him. He wiggles his fingers experimentally before turning his attention back to Pat.

“Alright, pretty boy, you ready?”

“Yessir,” Pat bites out in an exhale, and Brian looks smug.

“Legs spread, baby, c’mon, there we go.”

A sharp gasp from Pat.

“You okay?”

“Just -- it’s cold.”

“Ah, fuck, sorry.”

“You’re good, keep going.”

Brian does, and once he’s got a rhythm, he leans back down to kiss Pat again, to taste the little wanting-sounds that he coaxes out of him with every movement of his fingers. Truly he loves this; rarely does he get it, because he won’t do it on his own, and so he can’t even help the needy whine he gives as Brian adds another finger and the way he rolls his hips up against nothing.

“God, Patrick, you make such pretty sounds,” Brian says, looking up at him from beneath his eyelashes. “Bet you’re ready to take this toy now, huh?”

“Yes, please,” Pat says, and clenches his fists so as not to reach for Brian when he moves away. He’s quick, though, flits across the room and around and back before Pat can really even have time to miss him. And then he’s sitting between Pat’s spread legs again -- turns his head to press a quick kiss to his bent knee -- and snapping a condom over the silicone.

“I’ll take care of all this, after, I just want you to feel comfortable,” Brian says, casual, but his eyes flick across Pat to double-check that everything’s alright before he clicks the bottle of lube open to apply liberally. It’s not so chilly, this time, or maybe Pat’s just better prepared, when Brian presses it to his entrance.

He tries his damndest to be still, really he does, but the slow steady pressure as Brian works the toy in is fucking perfect and he gets it at just the right angle and his leg kicks out involuntarily and Brian laughs. Pat groans and throws his arm across his face, but he’s smiling a little and lets Brian see it.

Pat is panting, by the time it’s all the way in, and Brian comes back to plant little kisses all over his face.

“You good?”

“Yeah, fuck, _yes._ ”

“Good boy. Okay. So I have an idea, but it might take a little bit to set up. How do you feel about that?”

“Uh, depends. Are you, like, gonna leave me here by myself, or is it set-up in that you’re going to spend a hundred more years on foreplay?”

“Well, could be either. I was thinking maybe I could ride you, if you were alright with that.”

“Oh, _fuck._ Yes, holy shit, absolutely.”

“I’m gonna have to go wash my hands either way, so I’m going to have to dip out of the room for a minute. I can come back here and you can watch me, or I can stay in the bathroom if you’d rather not watch, but I’ll be gone longer that way. It’s up to you. And if you’d rather I stay, I can suck you off instead, or something. We’ll find something to do, that’s for sure.”

Pat thinks about this. As best as he can, anyway, with his powers of thought a bit muddled by how fucking turned on he is.

“I can wait,” he says, finally. “I might want to watch another time, but maybe not right now.”

“Okay! That’s totally fine. Uh, shit, where’d I put that towel, dunno if Jonah’s home -- oh there we go.” He picks it up off the floor, wraps it around his waist. “I’ll be back real soon, okay, baby? You need anything while I’m gone? Or need anything to keep you busy, in the meantime?”

“Um. Is there anything you can tell me to do?”

Brian seems to mull this over for a moment, and then a grin flashes across his face. “How about this. I want you to touch yourself, but if you feel even sort of close to coming, you take those hands of yours and hold onto that bar of the headboard, yes, that one, just above your head, until you calm down enough to start again. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Well. Pat has never been one to back down from a challenge. “Yessir.”

“Good boy. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Brian slips out the door with a wink, and Pat is left to the dull thud of his heartbeat and the distant roar of traffic, stories below.

Cautiously, he runs his fingers along his dick; his hips buck upwards, even though he should fully have expected it, and the movement presses on the plug in his ass and he moans, not quietly. It’s sooner than he’d expected -- or hoped -- he hardly strokes himself twice before he feels his muscles start to tighten, hopeful of release, and he jerks his hands away and clutches the headboard with both hands.

He closes his eyes and just focuses on breathing until the pent-up energy in him starts to uncoil a bit, and he drops his hands and starts again. This time, he anticipates how it’ll feel, and breathes out a slow, calculated exhale as he delicately wraps his hand around his cock, moving in light, careful strokes. It feels so fucking good, is the issue; he just wants to keep going -- but as soon as he has that thought he knows he has to stop again.

He’s breathing harder, now, and it’s more of a challenge to steady himself this time. He squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lip, counts his inhales and exhales -- _four beats in four beats out_ \-- as his pulse evens itself out and finally, finally, he can blink his eyes open and let go of the bar.

He’s not so cautious this time, emboldened, and in two overly enthusiastic pumps he knows he’s fucked himself over. He moans, fucking into his fist, feeling his orgasm start to build -- 

“Stop,” says Brian’s voice at the door, not loud nor angry but ringing and _serious,_ and Pat jerks away so hard and fast that he hits his knuckles on the headboard. He doesn’t care, though, hardly even _notices_ as he grips the bar white-knuckled, fingernails digging into his palms, breathing ragged, eyes wild.

“Good,” says Brian. “Stay still.”

Pat watches him as he crosses the room to the bed. His impression of impassiveness is convincing, but Pat knows him well enough to know the glint in his eye. Oh, he is in for it. He watches as Brian gets another condom, then pauses over Pat’s dick.

“You ready for me to do this, or are you gonna shoot as soon as I touch you?”

“You can, I’m fine, yes,” Pat gets out. He makes a little strangled desperate sound at the first contact Brian makes, but keeps it in check well enough after that, even as Brian indulgently squeezes his cock as he applies lube.

“Good job, baby boy. You did so well. Are you ready for me?”

“Yes. Please,” says Pat.

He doesn’t know how, or why, or when he managed to get so lucky, he thinks, as Brian carefully positions himself over Pat, straddling him, and then -- not breaking eye contact -- slowly, deliberately, takes Pat inside him, sinks down on him like it’s the easiest most practiced thing in the world. Pat doesn’t register the choked sounds he is making as his own, for a second, until Brian rocks a little and it breaks off into a whine.

“Wow, good thing we have the apartment to ourselves, huh? Gotta say, though, Pat Gill, you sound good like this. And, fuck, you _look_ good, you should see yourself. So needy, just for me.” He smiles. “So here’s the plan, baby. Tell me what you think. I’m gonna ride you ‘till we both can’t take it anymore, and then I’m gonna get that plug out of you and get my cock in you and fuck you into the bed. How’s that sound?”

“Perfect,” says Pat, breathless.

“Warn me if you think you’re gonna come, baby boy, ‘cause if I’ve got a thing to say about it you’re not until after I do. Got it?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, you sweet lovely thing. Such manners. You really do like being told what to do, huh?”

“Mm- _hm._ ”

“Good boy. I like giving you orders. You follow them so well, my darling.” As he talks, he starts to move with purpose, with intention, but his voice hardly wavers. His hands dig into Pat’s hips as he balances himself; Pat realizes he’s still holding the headboard, but he has no intention of moving without permission. “Tell me, does this feel good? You want it harder?”

_“Please.”_

“Hah, careful, don’t ask for things you can’t handle. You sure?”

Pat just nods, and -- and _oh right,_ he’d almost forgotten the absolutely wild things that Brian can do with his body. The man’s a goddamn dancer, can do a high kick, a straddle jump, a positively solicitous hip thrust, and oh _Christ_ can he move. He leans forward -- taking his hands off Pat’s hips before they bruise, thankfully -- and rebalances his weight for more freedom of movement. And, god, does he take advantage of it: he fucks himself on Pat’s cock with vigor, with enthusiasm, with _showmanship._ Brian tosses his head back and moans; he pants and gasps and whimpers and grunts and keeps saying sweet pretty things to Pat, _Brian’s sweet pretty thing,_ and all Pat wants is --

He wants --

He _needs_ \--

He’s --

“Brian, Brian, stop stop stop I’m gonna come oh my god fuck oh my _god_ \--”

Brian is off him in moments and Pat almost _sobs_ at the sudden loss of contact.

“Thirty seconds, Patrick, you can count if you want, thirty seconds and I’ll be right back and I’m gonna fuck you and it’s gonna feel so good, okay? Just hang on,” Brian says, and then he’s darting away. Pat squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to _fucking cry_ from want and tries to catch his breath and by the time he remembers that he could be counting, Brian is climbing back onto the bed again.

“Okay. I’m gonna take the plug out, okay, Pat?”

“Yes.”

Brian kisses Pat’s jaw, nips at it for good measure, and then he sits back up. Pat likes the concentrated intense look on his face, he thinks, before Brian does something and moves the plug in his ass and he fucking _wails_ , something barely words but something wildly blasphemous and imploring. He plants his feet on the mattress and clings to the headboard and Brian presses little kisses to the side of his leg, meant to be reassuring Pat is sure, and when the plug is out he feels so fucking empty and desperate and he can’t believe the sounds he is making are coming out of him and his hips cant upwards as Brian pets at him --

“Shh, shh, baby boy, breathe, I’m gonna be inside you in just a sec but you need to breathe first, okay? I need you to breathe and try not to kick like that, okay?”

Pat gasps for air like a drowning man, realizing he’s writhing under Brian, and he tries to still himself.

“Okay, uh, actually, can you turn over? I super don’t want to get kicked in the face if your previous reflexes are anything to go by.”

“Sorry,” Pat chokes out.

“No sorries, baby, you’re perfectly fine. Just keeping our interests at heart. Hah -- Pat, honey, you’re gonna have to let go of the bar. There you go. Easy. Here, scoot back a bit, you can balance on your forearms if you don’t feel steady enough on your hands -- yeah, good. Just like that, if you’re comfy there. Good boy. Oh, don’t you look lovely.”

Brian leans over and kisses Pat’s temple. He pushes Pat’s hair behind his ear. He adjusts the collar -- _fuck, he’d almost forgotten_ \-- around Pat’s neck, moves it so he can hold the leash with plenty of slack. He likes it. He likes Brian holding him, like this. Likes knowing they’re tethered, somehow. Can’t float off, not if Brian’s got him.

“Ready, baby?”

“Yes,” says Pat, voice ragged, wanting.

As soon as Brian so much as presses against his entrance, he makes a desperate sound, his head dropping down towards the sheets, trying to angle himself closer.

“Easy, Patrick, we just gotta take it slow for another minute and then I’m gonna give it to you just like you want. I promise. I want it just as bad as you.”

He keeps talking, his voice low and steady, but Pat can hardly process any of it around the feeling of Brian moving, of Brian pushing into him, of the emptiness in him being filled with just Brian Brian _Brian,_ and he clutches at the bedsheets for something to hang on to as he pants, open-mouthed, just trying to hold himself together enough to not make awful desperate sounds with each passing second.

Finally, finally finally finally, Brian is seated all the way inside him and says _can I move_ and Pat nearly fucking sobs out a _please_ and then Brian’s hands grab tight at his hips and that is all the forewarning Pat gets before he is pounding into him with wild abandon.

Pat’s knees nearly give out under him immediately, so fucking blown away is he by the roar of sensation. He catches himself -- or maybe Brian catches him -- and he ducks his head down, ass up, grabs at his own hair to hang on to something else, to give him something else than the _too fucking good to handle_ \--

“Hands out of your hair, if you please, pretty boy,” says Brian’s voice, and it takes all of Pat’s higher functioning to untangle his fingers and resume grabbing at the sheets instead. “There you go. Good job, baby. That’s right, that’s my job,” and Pat doesn’t have time to process what that means before Brian grabs a handful of Pat’s hair, the sensitive part at the back of his neck -- it’s the hand with the leash, he can feel the strip of leather pressing against the back of his head -- and yanks on it, the force pulling his chin back and his forehead down against the mattress, and Pat shouts, wordlessly.

“Good boy. Think I can make you scream?”

Pat doesn’t know. Pat doesn’t doubt it. Pat doesn’t have the words left to say this.

Brian takes his hand out of Pat’s hair and Pat slumps forward a little, not realizing he was sort of being held up by him.

But then Brian’s hand finds Pat’s cock, nimble fingers wrapping around it, and Pat draws this loud, shuddery inhale, like he’s been sobbing -- 

Has he been crying? He can’t tell, it could be sweat or tears --

and he holds the base of his cock, not moving, not like Pat desperately wants him to --

It filters into his awareness, somehow, that Brian’s movements have grown irregular, frantic; his hand on Pat’s hip is tight and he’s talking fast, saying things Pat can’t parse --

 _Oh you’re so good for me Pat, Patrick, baby boy you’re too fucking good, I’m gonna come, and then you can too, baby, you’re so good, oh fuck oh god yes yes yes_ \--

He can tell when Brian comes because his whole body shudders, above around inside Pat, and he cries out this thick desperate sound, and then he’s still for a moment --

 _Brian please Brian please let me come I’m going to die I need it I need you fuck, fuck, please, I -- please, please_ \--

And then he’s moving again, lightly tugging at the leash, moving his hand on Pat, and Pat is keening, whining, sobbing for real this time --

 _Daddy, I need to come, please let me, please_ \--

“Come for me, baby, you can do it, come on, come on, baby boy, come for daddy --”

The desperate noises break off into nothing but hitched, gasping breaths as Pat jerks under Brian’s touch, as he rides it out and falls completely apart in Brian’s arms.

He collapses, when he’s finished, his body finally exhausted, wrung out, and Brian is quick to curl around him, pull him close and kiss him all over his face, frantic loving little pecks as he comes back to himself.

He blinks up at Brian, once he’s not shaking so much, and Brian is looking at him with such tenderness that it _aches._

“Hey,” says Brian, softly. “How are you doing?”

“So good,” Pat mumbles, and tucks his face against Brian’s chest. And then freezes for a moment. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”

“What?”

“I called you -- at the end, I -- did I really --”

“You sure did,” Brian says, cheerfully. “It was hot as fuck.”

“You’re half a _decade_ younger than me,” Pat groans.

“Sometimes it be like that,” Brian says sagely, and kisses the top of his head. “Have to say, didn’t think I’d be into it, was definitely super into it.”

“Fuck,” says Pat, but it’s good-natured, this time, and Brian just laughs and strokes his hair. “Sorry for not asking first.”

“You know, it wasn’t in my no list, so we’re good. And now it’s _definitely_ in my yes list.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, Gilbert.”

“Oh, but won’t it be sweet!” Brian prods at him until he tilts his head up, so Brian can kiss his lips, light and gentle. “I have so many _ideas_ now.”

“I am going to die and I will be dead and it will be because you have drained all the life force from me via my dick.”

“Well, then, before you perish, will you help me with the laundry?”

“Fuck, yeah, I guess I better. God, I’m gonna have to shower again too. I just wanna nap.”

“Naptime later. Cleanup time now.” Brian pokes at his side until Pat retaliates by tickling Brian’s ribs -- he screeches, half-surprise, half-outrage -- and then rolls over to get out of the way of whatever Brian’s next move is. Brian bounces up onto his hands and knees and looms over Pat, stares him down for a long moment, but then just kisses the tip of his nose and scoots off on his merry way.

“Strip the sheets, will you? I’m gonna wash this thing, then we’ll toss the laundry in and actually finish our shower and then we can nap all afternoon on the couch.”

“Bossy,” Pat huffs, dragging himself to his feet.

“You love it.”

“So help me, I do.”

Brian grins at him, full brightness, before ducking out of the room. Pat can hear him humming to himself. He smiles, though it’s not like anyone can see, and then starts to peel the sheets from the bed. He aches from tiredness, but it’s the good kind. The kind where all the stress has been fucked out of him and he’s just loose-limbed and sleepy-happy.

Brian, down the hall, starts belting out a version of _Love on Top_ that should by any rights be too high for his range, if he wasn’t so stupidly talented. Pat shakes his head fondly.

He’s not really sure how on earth he got this man to love him back, but damn if he’s not going to do everything in his power to deserve it.

**Author's Note:**

> never seen anyone write about a character who Likes This Very Much but is also Very Fucking Particular about how they experience it and since thats how i am about literally fucking everything yall get pat being like this and if even one other person out there feels the same and finds this then i hope you know you're not alone and you're perfectly valid
> 
> ANYWAY, NOT TO GET TOO REAL OR ANYTHING,
> 
> maybe the next thing i write will not be top!brian but, statistically, seems unlikely
> 
> im segmentcalled on twitter being a gremlin! kudos make me smile and comments keep me writing t b h! love yall


End file.
